Hey Dude
by bloodyriot
Summary: Puck's being as stubborn as ever. A bro's gotta do what a bro's gotta do. In this case, Sam.


He crossed his muscled arms tightly, determined to glare anywhere but to his right. And it had nothing to do with a certain Jewish superstar and awkward Franken-ex too close for his comfort. Sure, he knew Berry was nice, but nobody was that _nice_.

Sam, unsurprisingly, had called the stage yet again. He had taken re-wooing Mercedes to the max. However, Puck was more than slightly shocked when he announced his song choice for the day. It seemed a little out of his comfort zone. In other words, for once, not _fucking_ country music or Top 40 shit.

"I'll be singing _Hey Jude_ by the Beatles." He cleared his throat and adjusted the guitar strapped to his back before starting to sing. Puck began to drift off like usual. He didn't usually pay complete attention to who was performing unless it was Rachel, but he was supposed to be mad at her, not thinking about her full pink lips forming the words, her beautiful voice belting them out, how she made these adorable faces to express emotion, the way she threw her head back...He was jolted in his chair suddenly and turned to glare at the offender. It was Kurt, who had not meant to kick him so hard, but motioned to Sam singing.

"_Hey Jude, don't make it bad._

_Take a sad song, and make it better._

_Remember to let her into your heart, _

_and you can start to make it better._

_Hey Jude, don't be afraid._

_You were made to, go out and get her._

_The minute, you let her under your skin,_

_you begin to make it better."_

Sam began to strum in time with the drummer, his mouth stretching even more. Make that three balls he could fit in his mouth.

"_Anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude refrain._

_Don't carry the world, upon your shoulders._

_For well you know that it's a fool, who plays it cool,_

_by making his world a little colder."_

He smiled brightly at his bro while "na-na-na-ing", making it clear who the song was for just in case anybody else hadn't caught on. Puck rolled his eyes and did his best to look macho. Not too hard. He thought to himself while blowing air into his face, Jude sounds like dude, right? That's less pansy sounding. Now I don't feel so much like Mercedes.

Remember, Puckerman, hey dude, not Jude. Hey dude, not Jude.

"_Hey Jude, don't let me down._

_You have found her, now go and get her._

_Remember to let her into your heart, _

_and you can start to make it better." _

He gave him another look before launching into the next line.

"_Better, better, better, better, better, oh!"_

He jerked his casually towards Rachel, raising a blond brow ever so slightly. Fortunately, it was subtle enough that no one noticed. The rest of the glee club na-na-na-ed for Sam as he strummed, making expressions that Puck was supposed to understand. He avoided his gaze even as the "Hey Jude's" grew louder. Then he couldn't take it anymore.

"For the love of Moses, shut the hell up, Lady Lips! God, I like Berry as more than a friend, okay? Are you happy now?" he yelled, kicking down his chair. The music stopped and everyone's eyes widened, including his friend's.

"S-sorry, man. I'm just trying to help you out. I'm not trying to upset you or anything. That's what friends are for."

"Don't you fucking _dare_ sing _With A Little Help From My Friends_, Evans. I swear to God, I will kill you." He whirled around, staring at everyone crazily. They were all sharing a bewildered look. His hazel eyes landed on aforementioned girl, whose mouth was hanging open a little.

"Yeah, I like you, Berry. As in _like like_ you. Deal with it." He stomped out angrily, not wanting enough to look back. Somewhere inside his messed up thoughts he knew that Trouty Mouth had meant well, but...fuck. Now all of those felt like a kick in his screwed up heart. He had his keys in hand, planning to go all road rage on the good people of Lima, Ohio. Maybe take the slushie machine from the 7-11 or something. He could slushie Sam tomorrow. And Rachel, for good measure. Then his guilt quickly took over. Now he knew how much that really hurt, physically and emotionally. No matter how much she was killing him, he couldn't do it. Not anymore. He kicked a nearby locker, then punched another one.

"Dammit!" he swore when his skin tore and he began to bleed a little.

"Noah!" he heard. He turned around tentatively to see Rachel Berry standing there quietly, her doe eyes filled with worry.

"Berry," he greeted as coldly as possible, forcing himself to walk away from her.

"Noah, wait," she said, gently placing a small hand on his arm. He let her stop him and let his defeated side take over.

"What are you going to tell me? You're back with Hudson and you're oh so very sorry. I fucking get it, okay? You get to have everything you ever wanted with the fucking-"

"Noah Benjamin Puckerman! Hush your ranting and let me speak!" she exclaimed angrily after slapping him across the face. She placed her cool hand against his reddened face, apologizing to him in a murmur. "I'm so sorry, Noah. That was rather rash of me. But may I speak now?" He nodded, afraid to get slapped again. "Noah, none of those claims are true. I'm not back together with Finn, because I don't want him. Not like I want you."

"Baby, I love you," he blurted out. "Shit, sorry for interrupting you. Please don't punch me in the balls." She rolled her eyes, her grin shining through.

"Noah, I will not injure your testicles, I promise. And, I love you also." She cupped his face, running her thumb over his cheek with a shy smile. His hand rose to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, for once returning her smile with one of his own instead of a smirk.

"I'm going to kiss the hell out of you now, princess. That alright with you?" He moved closer, stopping millimeters from her lips.

"Better make it good, Puckerman," she whispered in his ear.

"Look at Rachel Berry, fellow resident badass," he teased before pressing his lips to hers.


End file.
